Fade To Gray (Triad Series Book 1) Page 23

  "I believe you believe that. But the truth is, I don’t think you have a clue what love is. And I’m not sure you really care about anything except yourself and your empire. Everything else is expendable. Even me."

  "Emily…" He was begging now, and despite everything, it hurt her to see his pain.

  "Please, go." She closed her eyes, her head pounding in rhythm with her shattering heart.

  "This isn’t finished," her father threatened, sounding more like himself. "You’re my daughter. You can’t just dismiss me from your life."

  "Watch me," Emily said, holding onto Gideon’s hand as if it were a lifeline.

  *****

  GIDEON DRUMMED his fingers on the counter as he waited for the nurse to give him a copy of Emily’s discharge papers. The hospital hallway was quiet, but the silence seemed mocking rather than soothing. Blake Masterson was gone—for now—but Gideon knew the bastard would be back, which meant he needed to get Emily out of here now.

  Although he hated what Masterson’s manipulations had set into play, he was convinced that Masterson hadn’t directly had anything to do with Irwin’s death or Emily’s druggings. Which of course didn’t mean Emily’s father was innocent of all wrongdoing. Far from it. But even with Masterson’s admission, nothing had truly changed. Taking action against him now would only hurt Emily, and she’d been through enough.

  Of course odds were good that the full truth, whatever the hell it really was, would come out eventually. And although Gideon wasn’t certain what their future held, he wanted to be damn sure that Emily was protected from any fallout. Which meant making certain that her unwitting role in Irwin’s death stayed buried. So far they’d been lucky, but the body count was rising and they were no closer to the truth behind what was going on.

  He shot a look down the hall toward her door. She’d been sleeping when he’d left, and there was no way anyone could get to her without getting past him first, but even so he still had to fight the need to rush back to her side. Hell, what he wanted was to take her away somewhere where no one would ever find them.

  A door behind the counter opened, and he blew out a breath of relief when the nurse finally appeared with the papers. After scrawling his signature across the bottom, he shot the woman a smile of thanks, stuffed them into his pocket and turned to head back to Emily’s room, almost colliding with Declan.

  "I’m glad to see that you’re still here," Declan said as they moved down the hall out of earshot of the nurse’s station.

  "What’s up?" Gideon asked, worry resurfacing at the expression on Declan’s face. "Was there a problem with the Jersey police?"

  "No, everything was fine. Basically, we just briefed the police and then left. And so far no word from Ceraso."

  "Yeah, well, I’m betting he’ll have plenty to say once he hears what happened."

  "Particularly the fact that we were involved." Declan’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. "How’s Emily?"

  "Pretty banged up, but she’s going to be okay. I’m getting ready to take her home."

  "What about Masterson?"

  "He was here. It wasn’t pretty, but Em stood up to him. She actually asked him to leave. And, for the moment, he’s backed off. Although I doubt that lasts. No way is he going to let go of Emily that easily."

  "So what are you going to do?"

  "I have no idea. Nothing that risks hurting Em. Which makes it tricky. At least we can be fairly certain her father wasn’t involved in the explosion. As much as he hates me—he isn’t stupid. He’d never risk planting a bomb in my car if there was even a chance that his daughter might be present when it blew. And he denies any involvement with Irwin’s murder."

  "And you believe him?" Declan raised a skeptical brow.

  "Unfortunately, I do. He wouldn’t have been a party to drugging his daughter. Or trying to stage her suicide. It just doesn’t track."

  "His man shot at her at your apartment."

  "Actually he shot at me. But I get your point. Bottom line, Masterson didn’t expect anyone to be there—and certainly not Emily. It was an unmitigated disaster, but it doesn’t mean he’s behind the other attacks. The man was just trying to cover his ass. Which leaves us back at square one."

  "Maybe not," Declan said. "That’s actually why I’m here. Ryder found something on Jesse Tyler’s phone. There was definitely a plot against Irwin, but it wasn’t about murder. It was about blackmail."

  "So we have proof that Jesse Tyler was working with Irwin?" Gideon frowned, thinking of the damning video footage.

  "Not unless the man was playing both sides," Declan replied. "The evidence Ryder found places Jesse right smack dab in the middle of an attempt to set the senator up. Jesse was supposed to create an incident and then gather proof of the senator’s lecherous proclivities in order to blackmail him."

  "With Emily?" Equal parts of rage and disgust washed through him.

  "There were no names mentioned, but I don’t think we can ignore the possibility. The facts seem to fit." Declan shrugged. "But there’s more."

  "I’m not going to like it, am I?"

  "No," Declan said with a quick shake of his head. "You’re not. It looks like we’ve been chasing the wrong Masterson."

  "You’re not saying that Emily—"

  "Of course not." Declan held up a hand in denial. "I’m saying that Jesse Tyler was working with Emily’s uncle."

  "Vincent? Son of a bitch." How the hell was he going to tell Emily that her uncle had betrayed her too? "You’re sure?"

  "That they were plotting? Absolutely. But only the blackmail. There’s nothing to tie Vincent directly to the murder except the fact that Jesse was clearly there the night the senator was murdered."

  "Yeah, his involvement is circumstantial at best. Besides, it seems a stretch to think that Vincent would pull Emily into it. He dotes on her almost as much as her father does. And while I can believe he was trying to trap Irwin, I can’t believe he’d use her to do it."

  "Yeah, but Jesse Tyler wouldn’t have had a problem with that part. He’d have sold his mother out if there was something in it for him. Still, it sounds like Vincent is in this up to his neck. And if he’s the one who took out Jesse—he’s obviously trying to cover his tracks."

  "Or if he isn’t the killer," Gideon said, "then he’s probably running scared."

  "Yeah, that seems most likely. We’re running ballistics right now to see if Tyler and Wetherston were killed with the same gun."

  "Any luck tracking Vincent down?"

  "No. So far our guys haven’t come up with anything. His cell is off. And he isn’t using his car. We found it at the garage across from his apartment. I was actually hoping he might be here."

  "I would have expected that he would be. But I haven’t seen him. And I’ve pretty much been with Emily the whole time."

  They stopped in front of Emily’s door.

  "Are you going to tell her?" Declan asked.

  "I have to. There have been too many lies between us. Most of them not our fault, but if we have any chance at all"—and if he were honest with himself he had to admit that he wanted that more than anything—"I have to tell her the truth."

  "All right then." Declan pushed open the door and Gideon followed him into the room.

  "There you are." Emily was awake, her face still too pale, but a smile hovered at the corners of her lips. "I woke up and you were gone."

  "I was just getting your discharge papers." He produced the stapled sheets and waved them through the air. "And then I ran into Declan."

  Her smile faltered, then dimmed. "Did something happen?"

  Gideon looked to Declan, who quietly stepped back out of the room. After the door closed, Gideon crossed the room to sit on the edge of Emily’s bed.

  "What is it?" she asked, reaching for his hand. "You’re scaring me."

  "Well, first off, you have to know that we found Jesse Tyler. Ryder tracked him to a motel in New Jersey. Unfortunately we got there too late."

 
"Oh my God. What happened?"

  "Someone shot him. We were working the scene when Mrs. McNamara called."

  "I’m sorry." She bit her bottom lip, her fingers tightening around his.

  "No. I wanted to be here with you. Hell, I should never have left you in the first place. If I’d just been with you—"

  "We might both be dead," she said, cutting him off. "There’s no sense in second guessing what happened. It’s done. And I’m all right. What’s important now is that we figure out who is behind all of this."

  He ran his thumb over the soft skin on the back of her hand. "We found Jesse Tyler’s phone at the motel room."

  "And?"

  "Tyler was trying to blackmail Irwin."

  "Turnabout is fair play," she said, trying for humor but missing by a mile.

  "He had a partner, Em." Gideon carefully brushed a strand of hair back from her face, wishing like hell he could somehow lessen the blow. She looked so small and fragile sitting in the hospital bed.

  "My father?" she whispered, her voice filled with pain.

  "No, sweetheart, it wasn’t your dad." Their gazes locked as he sucked in a fortifying breath. "It was your uncle."

  CHAPTER 24

  EMILY GLANCED DOWN AT her cell phone, the message icon stubbornly remaining blank. No word from her uncle, despite her attempts to reach him. Maybe she shouldn’t care. Maybe she shouldn’t talk to her uncle any more than she should talk to her father. The hard cold truth was that the two men she’d considered the most important in her life had betrayed her. And, honestly, until she figured out how to cope with a world seemingly turned on end, she wasn’t sure she had anything to say to either of them.

  Her head ached, and her heart felt as if it had been shredded.

  "It’s going to be okay," Gideon said, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder as the nurse wheeled her out of the elevator and down the hallway toward the lobby. His presence was the only thing holding her together, and that thought scared her almost as much as the horror of learning that her uncle had been working with Jesse Tyler and that the two of them had quite possibly been responsible for her drugging and subsequent abduction.

  The idea that Vincent could have left her alone with Irwin’s body made her physically sick, the betrayal cutting so deep it was hard to breathe. And yet some part of her resisted the notion that Uncle Vincent could have had a role in what happened in that hotel room.

  Her uncle was always scheming about something and he was often short of money, but as far as she knew he’d never actually hurt anyone. He couldn’t be a killer. And yet it was hard to explain it all away. She’d seen the emails and they were damning.

  She shuddered, her mind trotting out the brutal images of Irwin on the bed—his eyes open, his body spattered with blood. Surely Uncle Vincent couldn’t have done something like that and then just left her alone in the aftermath.

  "I don’t understand why Uncle Vincent’s not getting back to me. I’ve left voice mails and sent numerous texts—all with no response. What if something’s happened to him?"

  Gideon looked down at her, his green eyes filled with regret. "Hopefully he’s just gone to ground. Vincent is wily as hell. But we’ll find him."

  "I hope so."

  They rounded a corner, moving from the hallway into the lobby and were immediately surrounded by a crowd of people—some of them with cameras.

  "Miss Masterson, can you tell us who was behind the explosion?" a man asked, shoving a microphone into Emily’s face.

  "Is it true your father was involved?" another man queried.

  Emily felt her shoulders tighten as Gideon stepped in front of the wheelchair, blocking further access. "Move out of the way," he said, using his arm to push through the crowded room.

  The reporters surged forward, cameras rolling, their voices merging as they continued to bombard her with questions. She kept her head down, praying that they’d make it through the gauntlet. She wasn’t ready to answer questions. She needed time to digest everything that she’d learned. Time to face the new reality surrounding her father and uncle.

  A reporter jostled her arm, trying to push the nurse aside. Gideon shifted again, this time leaning over, using his body to protect her. In one swift motion, he pulled her out of the chair and into his arms. The nurse said something in protest, but Gideon ignored her and Emily buried her face against his chest.

  "Hang on, sweetheart," he said, using his shoulder to shove his way through the crowd.

  "This way," came another deep voice. Emily turned her head, recognizing Logan Ceraso. The detective waved toward a sliding door. "Through there. It’ll take you to the ambulance bay. My car is waiting."

  Gideon nodded and followed Ceraso. Emily pressed herself closer into Gideon’s warmth, taking comfort in the steady sound of his heartbeat. In only a few minutes, Gideon and Logan had helped her into the backseat of Ceraso’s car. And as the reporters surged through the door, Gideon climbed in next to her, the detective sliding behind the wheel.

  "Your timing is impeccable," Gideon said to Logan as they drove away. "But I’m thinking you didn’t come here just to pull our asses out of the fire."

  "Not entirely, no. Although I’m always glad to help someone outmaneuver those vultures. I was actually coming to talk to Miss Masterson about the explosion. From what I’ve been told, that was one hell of a firestorm on 71st."

  Emily lifted her chin, meeting the detective’s eyes in the rearview mirror. "I was really lucky."

  "To be alive, yes. But I’m thinking maybe Lady Luck hasn’t exactly been on your side of late. What with car bombs and gas leaks and people you know dropping dead all over the place."

  Emily tried but couldn’t contain a shudder. Gideon’s arm wrapped around her, pulling her against his side. "Back off, Logan, she’s been through enough."

  "Hey, I’m not the enemy here. I’m one of the good guys. But there’s not a damn thing I can do if I don’t know what’s really going on."

  "It’s complicated," Gideon said.

  "Isn’t it always." Logan’s lips twisted into a smile. "But the bottom line is that someone clearly wants one or both of you out of the picture. Possibly someone who had something to do with the senator’s death. So maybe if you’ll shoot straight with me and fill in some of the missing pieces, we can put an end to this before one of you winds up dead."

  *****

  "SON OF A BITCH, Gideon," Logan Ceraso said, pacing in front of the window behind his desk at the precinct. "What the hell were you thinking?"

  Despite her aching head and tattered heart, Emily felt her lips twitching upwards. If all of this weren't actually happening to her, she’d consider it a badly written novel. A farce at that. She sobered with a shiver. Unfortunately, it wasn't fiction. It was real. And suddenly a matter of life and death. Hers and Gideon’s.

  "Why didn’t you just come to me in the first place?" Logan’s thunderous expression was still on Gideon.

  Gideon’s jaw tightened, his green eyes flashing.

  "It was my fault," she interrupted before he could respond, recognizing that he was about to tell Logan where he could shove his questions.

  She hated the idea of causing further strife between the two of them. On the drive to Logan’s office, she’d learned more about the two men’s relationship. Apparently, they’d not only grown up in the same neighborhood, they’d been friends. And from what she could tell, despite the fact that their respective jobs obviously kept them at odds, they still were. Or at least they had been.

  Until she'd dragged Gideon into the hell that had become her life.

  She blew out a breath, ignoring Gideon's glare. It wasn't as if they hadn't already confessed the worst of it. Her heart twisted. There was still the matter of her uncle, but she had no doubt that they'd be discussing that soon enough.

  "I begged him to help me," she offered.

  "It's what I do," Gideon countered, the comment somehow making Emily feel as if he were rejecting her. Which was stupid wh
en there really wasn't anything to reject. Except last night, and she still wasn't sure what, if anything, their coming together had meant. In truth, she hadn't really had time to think about it, what with almost being blown up and all.

  God, it was all so confusing. Her head was throbbing as well as her knee and hip. By tomorrow she'd probably be purple all over.

  "None of that matters." Logan waved a hand through the air as he dropped into the chair behind his desk. "What matters is that this whole thing has turned into a cluster fuck. With you two at the epicenter." He paused to release a breath, his frustration evident. "So let me see if I have this straight. Either Tom Irwin or Jesse Tyler drugged Emily’s drink." His gaze collided with Gideon’s. "And I hope you know I’ll expect those toxicology reports, along with any other evidence you have on my desk by day’s end."

  "It’s already in the works," Gideon said.

  Logan nodded, but the tension in his shoulders remained. "So where was I?"

  "Me being drugged," Emily offered, feeling again like a character in a novel.

  "Right, and then Irwin and Tyler dragged you to the hotel and up to the senator’s room where someone, possibly Tyler, murdered the man and left you comatose to take the fall. Except that Gideon and his posse stepped in and gummed up the works by taking you out of the equation altogether."

  "At least that was the plan," Gideon said, his fist clenching and unclenching.

  Without thinking, Emily reached over and covered his hand with hers. He opened his fingers, their palms touching, and she was almost ashamed of how much she relished the feel of his skin against hers.

  "Next up," Logan continued, "someone tries to kill Emily and make it look like she committed suicide. Only again, you rode to her rescue." Logan’s eyes narrowed as he took in their joined hands, but when Emily moved to pull free, Gideon tightened his grip.

  "And then Jack Wetherston issued his warning and wound up dead," Gideon said, continuing what had become a saga.

  "Followed by someone breaking into your apartment."

  "I’m not sure that was actually related," Gideon was quick to insert.